Second Chances
by Icabu
Summary: Jim Street revisits and relives trying moments of his past
1. Chapter 1

** Inspired by the pilot episode 'Killing Ground'. Also, the episode 'Time Bomb' where Jim Street is seeing a stewardess named Sheri, played by his to be long-time wife Heather Menzies. Their on-screen chemistry deserved more. **

#

Officer Jim Street descended to the SWAT Control Center with his freshly dry cleaned uniforms slung over his shoulder. Whistling, he pulled on his uniform pants, his civvy clothes neatly hanging beside his spare uniform. His shirt hung on his locker door and he reached into the accoutrement box on the locker shelf for his badge and tie clip. It was a reassuring ritual to pin his partner's badge from his days on the streets in Olympic 341 on his shirt. Harrelson had made good on Jim's request to be assigned Rob's badge number after his partner was killed in an ambush.

The box was empty. His good mood vanishing, Jim searched through his locker. His department issued badge was still in his spare pair of shoes, but Rob's badge – that he'd worn religiously since the senseless killing – was gone. A soul-deep burn boiled into anger.

Lieutenant Harrelson knew something was wrong when he saw Officer Street, normally in first in the morning, wearing only his white t-shirt and uniform pants. Rummaging through his desk drawers and swearing, the officer spun around, nearly running into him.

"Lieutenant," Jim said, looking at his watch.

"Street," Harrelson acknowledged. "Is there a problem?"

Jim flapped his arms and crossed to his locker. "It's gone. I know it was here last night. I always put it in the box."

"I'd help you, if I knew what you were talking about." Harrelson crossed his arms and watched the obviously frustrated officer.

"Rob's badge … it's gone."

The abject misery on Street's face alerted Lt. Harrelson. "What do you mean gone?"

Jim pulled out the empty box from his locker. "Gone." He threw to box back in his locker. "I always put my badge and tie clip in that box. I did last night, too."

Harrelson thought back to the evening before. They had gotten out a little late, nothing unusual or extreme. While he didn't pay particular attention as the men changed and left, nothing seemed different than any other end of shift.

"You said Rob's badge," Harrelson said.

"Yeah," Jim said, brow furrowed with distress. "You worked it out with HQ so that I was issued Rob's badge number after he was killed. His wife gave me his spare badge. I wear it every shift."

"Is that all that's missing?" asked Harrelson.

"Seems to be. My tie clasp, too. They were together in the box." Having that badge taken hit Jim like a fist to his gut.

Jim reached in his locker and took his department issue badge out of his spare right shoe. It had Rob's number on it, but it wasn't the same.

Harrelson crossed to the armory, checking inventory, nodding when everything seemed to be accounted for.

Jim walked in behind him. "Would you have an extra tie clip, Lieutenant?"

"Yeah, I'll get you one."

Jim stayed in the small room an extra minute. The other guys were in and getting dressed. He heard Dom calling for coffee.

"You mean we beat the Early Bird in this morning?" asked Dom.

Jim walked out into the Control Center. "No worms for you," he told Dom. Deke was already making the coffee so Jim sat numbly at his desk.

"It ain't worms I want, it's coffee," Dom whined.

"Hold your horses," Deke grumbled. "It's coming."

"Not horses," Dom shot back, "stallions. Italian Stallions."

Deke and TJ groaned.

"Here, Street." Harrelson held out a tie clip.

"Thanks, Lieutenant." Jim took the clip and slipped it on, completing his uniform.

"Listen up," Harrelson barked. In the ensuing instant quiet, he continued, "Street had items taken from his locker overnight. Everyone, check your belongings. I want a listing of anything missing."

Deke started for the armory door.

"Checked that, Deke," Harrelson called. "All accounted for."

Deke sighed with relief.

"What's missing, Jim?" asked TJ.

"My badge and tie clip," answered Jim.

"That you keep in the box?" Dom asked.

"Yeah. It was empty this morning." Jim poured himself a cup of coffee.

The others tore through their lockers.

"Nothing missing, Lieutenant," TJ reported.

"All present and accounted for, Lieutenant," said Dom.

"I've got everything," said Deke.

"I wasn't missing anything either," Harrelson said. "The armory is undisturbed; same for my office."

"What's with Jim's badge?" asked TJ. "Is someone going to impersonate an officer?"

"You can get a passable fake at the Army/Navy store for a couple bucks," Harrelson countered.

"How about counting coup?" Deke asked. "You know, into the lion's den."

"Makes as much sense as anything," Harrelson said. "I'll make a few calls around to see if anyone else is reporting thefts." He checked his watch. "Then we're due down at the marina for our water training – Zodiak handling, beach landing, and if the weather holds, helicopter insertion."


	2. Chapter 2

"Man, I'm so waterlogged." Dom tilted his head and pounded his palm on it, trying to clear his ears of water.

"That was some summersault beach landing you made, Dom," TJ called.

"I'm glad you liked it," Dom said. "I got sand in places that definitely shouldn't."

"Street, you looked like you've handled a Zodiak before," Harrelson said.

"Yes, sir," answered Jim.

Harrelson recognized the reluctance to talk about military service, and respected it. He nodded to Street. "Good job out there."

"Thank you, sir," Jim acknowledged.

"Well, someone could have clued in some of us that aren't so savvy," Dom grumbled.

"And miss that display of grace and style?" TJ teased. "No way."

"Maybe next time I'll charge …" Dom started.

"Gentlemen," Harrelson interrupted. "Get your reports on my desk, in great detail, and then you can get out of here."

#

"You've made Susan a very happy lady," TJ told Harrelson as he handed the lieutenant his report.

Harrelson took the report from the beaming officer. "Give her my best. Now get out of here."

"Yes, sir!"

Changing into his civvies in a flash, TJ then sprinted up the stairs.

Deke dropped his report on Harrelson desk and sank into the chair in front of his desk.

"I'm getting too old for all this fun." Deke sighed. "Seems more like work anymore."

Harrelson chuckled. "Wait until next week. We'll be doing it all over again – at night."

"All the more fun."

"Are you writing a book?" Dom peered over Jim's shoulder.

"Details," Jim muttered.

"Well, there's some parts you can skip over," Dom groused.

Chuckling, Jim said, "I diagrammed those."

Dom straightened, frowning. "I bet you did." He turned and headed into Harrelson's office, the frown still in place.

"Training, Luca," Harrelson said. "The purpose is to learn."

Brightening slightly, Dom said, "That I did, Lieutenant. That I did."

"Good." Harrelson added Luca's report to the stack. "See you in the morning."

"Bright and early," Dom said, exiting, passing Jim still hunched over his report.

Now dressed as a civilian, Dom had to shake his head in disbelief as Jim still labored on his report. Flipping his jacket over his shoulder, Dom took the stairs two at a time.

"Looks like you'll have a novel to read," Deke said to Harrelson, watching the remaining writer.

Harrelson nodded. "Usually good reading, though."

Deke arched an eyebrow, shook his head. "Well, I have a dinner party to attend," he said, rising. "Cleo will be shocked to see me there early enough to help out."

Harrelson smiled. "Your fun day continues."

"Yeah."

Deke patted Jim's shoulder as he went to his locker.

"Good night, Deke," Jim said.

"Yeah, sure." Deke quietly changed and trudged up the stairs to attend his wife's dinner party.

Not too long after Deke left, Jim stacked his report and stapled the corner. Stepping into Harrelson's office, he handed over his report.

Harrelson eyed the sheaf of papers before grasping them. When Street didn't let go immediately, his gaze snapped up to the young officer's.

"You said 'great detail'," Jim said, his voice holding a warning tone.

"And that's exactly what I expect," returned Harrelson.

Jim released the report and Harrelson laid it atop the stack.

"See you in the morning, Lieutenant," said Jim, leaving the office.

"Yeah," Harrelson shot back.

Leaning back in his chair, Harrelson let his mind wander back over the training session. When he heard Street clomp up the stairs, he folded to his curiosity and began leafing through Street's report. Pulled in by the neat block print, he read through the report, his brow furrowing in concentration.

#

Stepping into the warm early evening, Jim decided he didn't want to go home yet. Leaving his car in the lot, he walked to Crazy Mary's. Bellying up to the bar, he ordered a beer on tap. By the time he'd taken three sips of his beer, he'd had to brush off as many fun seeking ladies. He wasn't in the mood for any of them. At least the bartender was smart enough to leave him alone.

Jim restlessly tapped a coin from his change on the bar top. His mind was a tangle of emotions and memories of his patrol partner, Rob. The morning had started off so normal – Rob complaining about the hour, Jim reminding that it was Rob's idea to run the morning shift. It was supposed to be quieter.

Jim's eyes blinked as he remembered the gun blasts coming fast and furious, seemingly from all directions at once. He had barely gotten out of the car and a bullet hit his arm, throwing him away from Rob. Before Jim could pick himself up, Rob was down in front of the car, having taken multiple hits. Everything after that was a blur. He'd pulled Rob back to the car, the bullets flying so close he could hear them sizzle past. TJ was there, blasting away with a shotgun. Then Harrelson and Deke showed up with Sunset SWAT. And Rob had died.

Clearing out Rob's locker was as painful a job as Jim had ever done. He took the small box of personal items to Rob's wife … widow, Mary. She was pregnant with their third child. She'd given him Rob's spare badge, telling him that the job was what Rob had shared with him. Rob was not a policeman to her and the kids – he was husband and father. Rob had never worn his uniform in their house. Jim had worn that badge every day since, until today.

Startled from his reverie as the coin was pulled from his fingers, Jim looked up, ready for a confrontation. Harrelson. Jim blew out a breath, shaking his head. "Lieutenant?"

"Saw your car in the lot, thought I might find you here." Harrelson sat on a stool beside Jim.

Jim shrugged.

Harrelson nodded toward the bartender, pointing at Jim's beer. The bartender sat a heady pilsner in front of him.

Jim pulled at his warming, flattening beer.

"I read your report," Harrelson said. "You have a lot of experience with beach landings."

"Too much."

Nodding, Harrelson continued. "Come in hot, kill the motors at the third swell from the beach and the landing is silent?"

Pushing the coins around on the bar top, Jim answered. "During training once, I stood just inside the tree line, my back to the beach. The rest of the team came in. If I heard them, I fired a flare over the beach, lighting it up like high noon. First try they came in beside a rocky outcropping – bad move, the rocks bounced their sounds right to me. Then they tried shutting the motors at the beach breaker, the first wave, but I heard them before that. The next time they shut it off at the third wave out, but didn't carry enough speed to crest in with the waves. I hadn't heard them, but they didn't reach the beach. Finally, on the fourth try, they captured me."

Harrelson nodded. "Now that's good information." He could tell by the faraway look on Jim's face, that thousand-yard-stare, that this information had produced a lot of action.

Jim shrugged, his stare returning to the bar.

"Street, I've left word with everyone I know. Everyone is on the lookout for your badge." He held up a hand when Jim flashed an irate glare at him. "No details, just the badge number."

Relaxing, Jim nodded. "Thanks." He drained his glass.

"You, uh, lost two partners," Jim said, hesitant with the touchy subject. "Did you …"

"I have two badges in a safe at the house. I never wore them." Harrelson's eyes got a faraway look. "For a long time I kept one on the dresser so I'd see it every morning. As a reminder, I guess. Finally, I put them away. It's a rare occasion now that I get them out. But it happens." He looked at Street. "I'd advise you to do the same when we get that badge back. Wear the department issue, Rob Duran's is a treasure."

Jim nodded.

Finishing his beer, Harrelson stood. He grasped Jim's shoulder. "I don't want to add any more badges to that safe. Have your head straight in the morning."

"Yes, sir."

#

Jim apartment was dark and quiet when he returned from Crazy Mary's – just what he wanted. He took a slice of cold pizza from the fridge and munched, popping the top on a cold beer – a perfect dinner.

When the phone rang, Jim groaned. He'd just started his second slice of pizza. Only work called at this hour. He picked up the receiver and barked, "Street."

"Well, Officer Street, it's about time you answered your phone."

Sheri's soft voice immediately melted into Jim. "Sheri." Hers was the last voice he'd expected to hear since she was flying back east for a couple more weeks.

"You sound surprised," she said, disappointment ringing in her voice.

"I am," Jim answered truthfully. "And pleased, really."

"I called three times already," Sheri said.

"Oh, I had a late meeting with the lieutenant." Jim took a bite of his pizza, talking around it. "I'm just having dinner now"

"Not cold pizza again?" She giggled.

Enjoying her mirth, Jim smiled too. "With cold beer."

"Oh, that makes it all right, then." More giggles.

"Cold beer makes everything all right." Jim belched. "Excuse me."

The bubble of laughter over the phone lightened Jim's mood.

"So how's it on the east coast?" he asked.

The laughter stopped. "Oh, Jim, it's just awful. Everyone is rush, rush, rush and it's rained for three straight days. I so miss sunny California."

"It's dark out now. No sun here," Jim teased.

Her laughter returned. "You know what I mean. I miss you, too."

Jim's smile faded. Just a short conversation with Sheri had brightened his mood more than he'd ever thought.

"Jim?"

"Sorry," he said. "It's been a rough day."

"Oh, is everyone okay?"

"Yeah. A rough training day."

"Oh! Are you okay?" Sheri asked.

"I'm fine. No damage this time."

"You sure?"

"We had Zodiac training," he explained.

After a long pause, Jim asked, "Sheri?"

"You're training in astrological signs?" she asked.

Jim laughed. "No, it's a boat. You know, like a dinghy."

"Jim, you really don't need to train your dinghy."

They both laughed and Jim explained, generally, about the beach landing, making sure to add in Dom's less-than-graceful landing.

Feeling much more relaxed, he added, "I miss you, too."

"I'll be back as soon as I can get there," Sheri said.

"I'll be here."


	3. Chapter 3

"Yes," Dom declared, descending the steps. "Coffee."

Jim looked up from the newspaper, giving morning greetings to the arriving crew.

"There's a big write-up about that jewelry show," Jim said, holding out the folded paper to Harrelson.

Harrelson took the paper and perused the article. "It's by invitation only so I'm not sure why it got so much coverage." He handed the paper back to Jim. "Only the major distributors will be allowed in."

"You think this will make security more difficult?" Deke asked.

"I guess we'll jump in and go over our security responsibilities for this again. Review and rethink now that it's public knowledge." Harrelson walked to the front of the command center.

Jim opened his desk drawer to get his notepad that he'd already started on this job from Monday's overview meeting. All he found was his old notes. He'd gotten a brand new pad to start this major job review. He stood up.

"Street?" Harrelson stopped talking, looking mildly irritated at the interruption.

"Something else is missing, Lieutenant," Jim said.

Alerted, Harrelson walked back to Jim's desk. "What would that be?"

Jim swallowed in a constricted throat. "My new notepad. It had my notes from the jewelry job overview."

"You're sure it's missing?" asked Harrelson.

"I looked through my whole desk. It wouldn't be anywhere else." Jim nervously tapped his pencil on his desk.

Harrelson drew his hand over his face. After letting out a heavy breath, he asked, "How detailed were those notes?"

"Very," Jim answered. "I even had drawings."

Harrelson paced. "Of course," he muttered. "I bet this was the real target of the thief we had yesterday."

"And the badge was a diversion?" Deke asked.

"Maybe," Harrelson said. "They might use it with the knowledge gained from those notes."

"They who?" asked Dom.

Harrelson stopped pacing. "That's the question of the day. We're pretty sure we know where and what."

"Why is pretty obvious," added TJ.

"About two million reasons why," agreed Harrelson. "But who, we don't know."

"Or exactly when or how," Deke said.

"Someone got in here and out without causing suspicion," Jim said.

"Yes," Harrelson said. "We know the time frame for the access – after we left Monday evening and before we arrived Tuesday morning. Street, look into who normally comes and goes during that time – cleaning crews, maintenance, whomever."

"Yes, sir."

"We were assigned inside security," Harrelson said. "I'm going to hand that off to Riverside SWAT. They have two days to formulate their own plan. Since we know something is likely to go down, we'll provide perimeter support and hopefully stop anything before it gets started."

"That'll put a wrench in their plans," TJ said. "Originally there was no perimeter security."

"Right," agreed Harrelson. "It might be enough to counter the advantage they think they have."

"And, Riverside will not be operating by Street's notes," said Deke.

"Won't they think that we'll notice the notes are missing?" Jim asked.

"I don't know," Harrelson admitted. "It seems kind of desperate to steal from a police station. Might give them a superiority complex."

"That plays into our hands," Deke said.

"Because we actually are superior," Dom crowed.

"Careful, gentlemen," Harrelson cautioned. "Although, I do happen to agree, Luca.

"Deke, see the jewelry show organizer and get the list of authorized participants. We want to know all additions or deletions right up until the show starts – including any that were invited and didn't show by the start."

Deke nodded.

"TJ, Luca," ordered Harrelson, "talk to your street ears. I want to know if there's any talk of major jewelry movement or two million dollar heists."

"Yes, sir," came in unison.

"Let's move, gentlemen," Harrelson said.

Everyone did.

#

"Lieutenant?"

Harrelson looked up from the papers on his desk. "Street."

"I'm going to talk with Kitty on the overnight cleaning crew. She agreed to have lunch with me to discuss Monday night's shift."

Harrelson checked his watch. "Okay. Anything else?"

Jim looked at his notepad. "Maintenance didn't have anyone in the building Monday night."

Harrelson nodded. "See what Miss Kitty has to say."

"Yes, sir."

#

Deke entered Harrelson's office and sat quietly in a chair until the lieutenant finished scribbling on a form.

"Yes?" Harrelson asked, putting the filled-out form in a folder.

"Talked to a Mr. Frederick Drinkwater with Jewelers International, the host for this gem show." Deke handed a paper to Harrelson. "He's keeping the participants to twenty-five because of the limited space. He's had three changes but doesn't expect any more. He will, of course, inform us immediately if there is."

"Good, Deke," Harrelson said, reading through the list. "This is definitely a who's-who in the jewelry trade."

"If his stuff is good, there should be no problem getting his two million out of that group," Deke said.

#

Harrelson stepped out of his office as TJ and Luca thundered down the steps.

"Gentlemen?" Harrelson said as the two officers raced over to him.

"It's not the jewels," Dom panted.

Deke joined the group.

"Hacksaw Willy was miffed that he missed the chance for an easy share of a couple million," TJ added, between heavy breaths.

"What's getting hit?" asked Deke.

"The jewelry show," Dom said, grinning. "It's cash and carry."

"Lots of heavy briefcases," said Harrelson, smiling.

"Twenty-five of them," added Deke.

"Willy said the rocks were too hard to ditch. They'd be too hot to get top dollar," TJ said. "They're going for the cash."

"Who's they?" Deke asked.

"Willy didn't know, or wouldn't say. He did say it is a hand-picked group, excluding him." TJ shook his head. "He clammed up after that."

"Deke, call that Mr. Drinkwater back," ordered Harrelson. "Verify the cash only deal."

"That's good work," Harrelson said to TJ and Dom.

"Verified," Deke said from his desk. "All transactions due in cash."

"This is starting to sound like a smart group," said Harrelson. He glanced at his watch, noting that Street was still out after two hours.

#

"A four hour lunch?" Harrelson asked when Jim entered his office.

"Uh, no, sir." Jim shuffled under Harrelson's scrutiny. "Really. I barely got to eat lunch."

"Sit," Harrelson motioned toward the chairs in front of his desk. "Tell me what you've got."

Jim sat, stiffly. "Kitty said that Charlie Fitzsimons had a mysterious accident Monday afternoon, breaking his arm. The guy that replaced him wasn't anyone the cleaning company had used before – that Kitty knew. She said his name was Frank Smith." Jim took a breath and continued, "She said Frank told her he would take care of cleaning down here, that it wasn't too much work and since Kitty's arthritis was acting up, she agreed."

"So Frank was down here by himself," said Harrelson.

"According to Kitty, yes."

Jim handed Harrelson a rap sheet folder. "I brought Kitty in to look at the mug books. She fingered Wilson Bishop there as ol' Frank."

Harrelson stood, reading from the folder. "He's only been out for three months – assault, armed robbery."

"Patrol is picking up Charlie to question him about his accident." Jim stood too.

"I think I know why my stuff was hit, Lieutenant," Jim said.

Harrelson looked up from reading Wilson's rap sheet.

"I busted Wilson twice when on patrol. He promised to get back at me." Jim shrugged. "I guess he did."

"We'll give you the chance for a hat trick." Harrelson gave Jim's shoulder a firm pat. "We'll put out an APB on him, but I'd bet he's keeping pretty low."

"I took care of the APB," said Jim.

"Good. This is good work." Harrelson closed the folder and followed Jim out of the office.


	4. Chapter 4

Jim dug into his box lunch from his hiding spot on the west side of the hotel's auction building. In about an hour the jewelry buyers would start arriving. Frowning, Jim glanced down at his sandwich. It actually had him wanting one of Hilda's specials.

Raising his binoculars, he noted the same blue sedan driving slowly past the hotel. It was the seventh trip past in an hour. He unclipped the mike from the radio on his belt.

"SWAT 4. The blue sedan is slow driving past again."

"10-4, SWAT 4. We have it in sight. Two in front, two in back still." Harrelson watched the car move slowly out of sight.

"SWAT 3. I have two loiters, male, by the south entrance," TJ radioed.

"Suspicious, SWAT 3?" Deke called.

"Nothing obvious. I'll keep a watch on them."

"10-4. SWAT 3."

"SWAT 5. I have a stray mutt peeing on everything in sight."

"Uh, 10-4, SWAT 5. Thanks, Luca." Harrelson had to laugh despite the unauthorized transmission. They had been in position for a long three hours already.

#

Five sets of sharp eyes watched as a familiar blue sedan pulled into the parking lot in front of the auction building. Invisible to the car's occupants, the eyes watched as three of the men exited and entered the building carrying large briefcases. The driver remained with the car.

"SWAT 3," TJ called in a quiet voice. "The loiters from earlier are on the move. Looks like they're headed into the parking lot."

"SWAT 4," Jim radioed, "I have the two on foot in sight. The one wearing the watch cap is Wilson Bishop."

"10-4, SWAT 4. This is a Team Red Alert," Harrelson said. "The three from the blue sedan are the changes to the original invitations. I've alerted Riverside."

The Olympic team waited, a bit impatiently, while the Riverside team handled the action developing inside the building.

"Shots fired!" Harrelson radioed. "Inside the building. Riverside is engaged. Stay alert!"

Wilson Bishop and his buddy joined the sedan's driver crouching behind the car. The pops of several gunshots sounded from the building. Waiting for a call to assist, Olympic SWAT kept their positions. Charging in blindly could result in chaos with unwanted casualties on both sides.

"SWAT 4. I have a patrol car at the back gate. Was backup called?" Jim kept switching is attention between the blue sedan, the arriving patrol car, and the building's windows and exits.

"No call from us. May have been a silent alarm," Harrelson responded.

"They're walking in, Lieutenant. They'll be trapped." Jim began making is way to the gate, keeping behind the bushes and trees.

"SWAT 4, get those cops out of here! Luca, Deke, with me on the car. McCabe watch our backs. Go!" Harrelson barked his orders and the team surged out of their cover, except TJ.

The west side door of the auction building burst open and two of the men that had entered the building from the blue sedan ran out into the parking lot between the advancing patrol cops and where the sedan sat parked. They sprayed bullets towards the cops and the advancing Olympic SWAT team. Alerted, the three men at the sedan began firing, too.

What appeared as rampant chaos, soon settled into controlled action, SWAT action. Like Olympic had previously, Riverside SWAT held their positions inside as Harrelson directed his team outside.

Jim jumped down the five-foot retaining wall and crouched behind a dumpster. One of the cops was down, bleeding on the pavement, the other took cover behind a utility pole. Remembering the all too similar incident with his patrol partner, Jim sprinted out to get the downed officer. He heard the sharp crack of TJ's rifle and one of the robbers exiting the building went down. As he concentrated on the bleeding policeman, the sounds around him dimmed. Relying on his teammates, Jim concentrated solely on getting the downed man out of the shooting gallery.

A shot to his vest knocked Jim back, his breath stalled. Crawling, he grabbed the injured man and pulled with all he had, crossing the asphalt yards inch by inch. Finally reaching concealment, Jim gulped air into his aching chest as sweat stung his eyes; his fingers cramped around the policeman's shirt collar.

Quickly, he pulled off the officer's tie and bound the bleeding wound on the man's arm. He found another gunshot wound in the officer's thigh, bleeding heavily. He pressed his hand firmly over it to staunch the blood flow. The man groaned.

Hearing footsteps, Jim reached for his M16. Deke rounded the dumpster and took up a firing position in front of Jim and the patrol officer.

"Ambulance is on the way," Deke said. "We have all six neutralized."

Jim nodded behind Deke.

Deke turned. "You okay?"

Jim nodded again.

Dom ran up and checked on Jim and the officer. He also took up a defensive position.

Jim looked up and saw that Harrelson had the other patrol officer, keeping him away from the scene behind the dumpster. Looking down at his blood smeared hands, Jim envied him the distance.

The ambulance sirens were a welcome sound. Jim sat against the retaining wall while the medics took over and rushed the officer to the hospital. He vigorously wiped at the blood on his hands with a towel one of the ambulance medics gave him.

TJ came up and squatted beside Jim. "You lost this." TJ held up Jim's cap, his finger poking out of a hole.

Jim took his cap, inspected the hole. He felt the blood drain from his face. He looked back at TJ.

"Too damn close, Jim," TJ said. He gripped Jim's shoulder for a moment.

"Yeah." Jim didn't even remember losing his cap – having it shot off his head. His only thought was to get that cop out of the line of fire, before it was too late. He just couldn't let it happen again. Jim leaned his head against the brick wall. He prayed he wasn't too late. The blood, the adrenaline, the memories overwhelmed his system. Standing, he stepped behind the dumpster and lost his lunch.

#

"Street," Harrelson called out from his office.

Rising gingerly, Jim instinctively rubbed his bruised chest and entered the lieutenant's office. "Yes, sir?"

"Sit a minute."

Jim sank into a chair opposite the desk.

Harrelson leaned back. "I have to requisition you another vest."

Jim squirmed. "Uh, yes, sir."

"And a cap."

Jim nodded.

"That officer is in stable condition – Officer Saunders. He lost a lot of blood with that leg wound. Almost too much." Harrelson leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk. "Your actions most likely saved his life."

"Yes, sir. It's good to hear he's going to be okay." A weight he hadn't realized was there lifted from Jim's shoulders.

"It was quite a risk pulling him out of there," Harrelson continued.

Looking away from his commander, Jim nodded acknowledgement. He couldn't accept anything negative for his actions. They were in the risk business and another cop's life was on the line. Besides, he wasn't alone this time.

"He's lucky you were there. I know there was no hesitation with your decision."

Jim's gaze snapped back to Harrelson. "No, sir." Approval lightened Jim's shoulders more.

"Next time, if there has to be one, try harder to avoid the bullets."

Jim blinked. "Uh, yes, sir. I'll do my best."

"Chest all right?" asked Harrelson.

"Bruised." Jim shrugged. "You know."

Harrelson nodded. "Okay with that hole in your cap?"

Jim sighed. "Luckily, I suppose, I was unaware until TJ brought it to my attention."

Harrelson raised an eyebrow.

Jim shifted in his chair. "If I were a cat, I'd subtract one from my nine."

Smiling, Harrelson dug in his desk drawer. Pulling out a police badge, he handed it to Jim. "Deke took down Wilson Bishop. That was in his jacket pocket."

Turning the badge over, Jim smiled. He looked up to Harrelson, eyes moist. "This is Rob's." The back of the badge was painted black. Two dates stood out in white, painted in neat block print.

"What are the dates?" asked Harrelson.

Jim's fist closed around the badge. "The time I was Rob's partner."

Harrelson nodded. "You can keep it. Bishop didn't make it so it doesn't need to be kept as evidence now."

Jim stood. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

#

Jim propped Rob's badge on the dresser in his bedroom. He had learned so much in the nearly three years he'd been partnered with Rob. Harrelson was right, though. He didn't want to risk losing this badge again. He would see it as he faced each new day and again when he'd survived every day.

No, he thought, he did more than survive. He lived.


End file.
